諾貝爾文學經典:《寵兒》第4章Part 2

Denver stopped and sighed. This was the part of the story she loved.
She was coming to it now,and she loved it because it was all about herself; but she hated it too because it made her feel like abill was owing somewhere and she, Denver, had to pay it. But who she owed or what to pay it witheluded her.
Now, watching Beloved's alert and hungry face, how she took in every word, askingquestions about the color of things and their size, her downright craving to know, Denver began tosee what she was saying and not just to hear it: there is this nineteen-year-old slave girl — a yearolder than her self — walking through the dark woods to get to her children who are far away. Sheis tired, scared maybe, and maybe even lost.
Most of all she is by herself and inside her is anotherbaby she has to think about too. Behind her dogs, perhaps; guns probably; and certainly mossyteeth. She is not so afraid at night because she is the color of it, but in the day every sound is a shotor a tracker's quiet step.
Denver was seeing it now and feeling it — through Beloved. Feeling howit must have felt to her mother. Seeing how it must have looked. And the more fine points shemade, the more detail she provided, the more Beloved liked it. So she anticipated the questions bygiving blood to the scraps her mother and grandmother had told herwand a heartbeat. Themonologue became, iri fact, a duet as they lay down together, Denver nursing Beloved's interestlike a lover whose pleasure was to overfeed the loved. The dark quilt with two orange patches wasthere with them because Beloved wanted it near her when she slept. It was smelling like grass andfeeling like hands — the unrested hands of busy women: dry, warm, prickly. Denver spoke,Beloved listened, and the two did the best they could to create what really happened, how it reallywas, something only Sethe knew because she alone had the mind for it and the time afterward toshape it: the quality of Amy's voice, her breath like burning wood. The quick-change weather up inthose hills — -cool at night, hot in the day, sudden fog. How recklessly she behaved with thiswhitegirlNa recklessness born of desperation and encouraged by Amy's fugitive eyes and hertenderhearted mouth.

丹芙停下來，嘆了口氣。這是故事裏她最愛的部分。
馬上就要說到這段了。她之所以愛這段，是因爲它講的全是她自己；可她又恨這段，因爲這讓她覺得好像有一筆債欠下了，而還債的是她，丹芙。然而她究竟欠的是誰的債，又拿什麼來償還，她不懂。
此刻，注視着寵兒警覺而飢渴的臉，看她怎樣捕捉每一個詞、打聽東西的顏色和大小，注意到她明白無誤的瞭解真相的渴望，丹芙不僅聽見，也開始看見自己正在講述的一切：這個十九歲的黑奴姑娘———比自己大一歲———正穿過幽暗的樹林去找遠方的孩子們。她累了，可能有點害怕，甚至還可能迷了路。
問題的關鍵是，她孤身一人，而且腹中還懷着個讓她牽腸掛肚的嬰兒。她身後也許有狗，也許有槍；當然，肯定有生了青苔的牙齒。在夜裏她倒不那麼害怕，因爲夜色就是她的膚色，可是到了白天，每一個動靜都可能是一聲槍響，或者一個追捕者悄悄接近的腳步聲。
此刻丹芙看到了，也感受到了———藉助寵兒。感受到她媽媽當時的真實感受。看到當時的真實景象。而且好點子出得越多，提供的細節越多，寵兒就越愛聽。於是她通過向媽媽、奶奶給她講的故事注入血液———和心跳，預先設想出問題和答案。當她們兩個一起躺下的時候，獨角戲實際上變成了二重唱，由丹芙來滿足寵兒的嗜好，表現得好像一個情人，他的樂趣就是過分嬌慣他的心上人。帶着兩塊橘黃色補丁的深色被子也和她們在一起，因爲寵兒睡覺的時候執意要它在身邊。它聞着像草，摸起來像手———忙碌的女人從不消停的手：乾燥，溫暖，多刺。丹芙說着，寵兒聽着，兩個人盡最大的努力去重現事情的真相，而到底是怎麼回事，只有塞絲知道，因爲只有她一個人有心思去琢磨，事後又有空將它勾勒出來：愛彌的音質，她那燃燒的木頭似的呼吸。丘陵地帶那多變的天氣———涼爽的夜晚，酷熱的白天，驟降的霧。她和這個白人姑娘一道，是那樣毫無顧忌———因絕望而生，又受到愛彌那亡命徒一般的目光和善良的嘴縱容的毫無顧忌。